Bad Soil

Mycelium growth
On playground floor
Reflects the blossoming
Of maturity on those still too young
The fungal stink
Forces itself onto clothes
And souls of children
Leaving husks of adults

Poem for the Masses

Anything was possible then,
Before teenage pregnancies
Before heartbreaks at dusk
When the caressing breeze
Could remind you “This is the life”

Anything was possible then,
Before the boys’ groping
Before the cure of too many pills
When stories told in classrooms
Could weave compelling tales of heroes

Haiku #1

Crackling light above
Flood water rushing below
All is safe at home

Rethinking Humanity

Compulsion drives out personality
And invites pests and plague”
Turning gold and Glory
Into ruin and regret
This driverless ego grows reckless
“Limits” a term far out its vernacular
And they wonder why the disaster happened

Morning & Evening

The sun sailed across its realm
Imparting burns to flesh
And strain onto bodies
Yet the the children still play
They do not care about
The continually exploding behemoth
They only know its dimming
Means a returning to their mothers
And a returning to sleep to repeat again